


A Proper Wizarding Tradition

by inamac



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Multi, Orgy, Outdoor Sex, Ritual Sex, Sex Magic, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2018-01-05 13:29:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1094402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inamac/pseuds/inamac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Snape becomes headmaster, he decides to remind Hogwarts how Samhain should be celebrated by witches and wizards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Proper Wizarding Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Samhain Smut 2013. The summary is the prompt.

A Proper Wizarding Tradition

The armadillo scuttled away around a corner as Headmaster Snape threw open the door to his office and strode out into the corridor black robes swirling around him. He was startled for a moment, the creatures were neither native to these parts nor authorised as Familiars that the students might have as pets. Then he remembered his discussion with Minerva at the start of term.

"I have informed the Carrows," he had said, in tones that brooked no protest, "That the rule against using Transfiguration of students as a punishment has been rescinded. It should only be used for the gravest transgressions. As neither of them is particularly adept with the relevant charms I have told them to bring students to you to have the punishment inflicted. I would suggest that a few hours spent as, something harmless like a tortoise or a porcupine would be a suitable punishment. You may also chose to instruct a few selected prefects in the necessary spells."

Minerva's response had been one of her curt nods, acknowledging the order, but making no comment. She had never questioned his orders, but executed them with her own personal twist. The armadillo had looked a little like one of the second year students who had been hanging around with Mr Longbottom. The Carrows must have been particularly annoyed with him to ask Minerva to carry out this punishment. Not an armoured tortoise or a prickly porcupine as he had suggested, but something with the qualities of both. Well, Minerva had always liked reading Kipling.

The punishment charms were not the only change he had made in the School Rules. Dumbledore had always had the students celebrate the festival at this month's end in Muggle fashion, with Halloween lanterns, bright costumes and childish games. Snape had never had much patience with games, and Lord Voldemort had made it quite clear, when he had installed him as Headmaster, that anything Muggle would be regarded as an Unforgiveable offence. Proper wizarding traditions would be observed in future. So this year Samhain would be celebrated in the Old Way, with fire to banish the dark, rites to honour the dead, and lust to reaffirm the living.

The castle certainly had the right spooky atmosphere, even without the armadillo. Filius had been teaching obscuration charms and the hallways were misty with conjoured smoke while Pomona, mindful that this was traditionally the festival of her name-Goddess, had introduced trailing vines and concealing constructions of red and black fruits and berries everywhere that a student might seek a place to hide. Snape wondered, as he paced past a particularly well-hidden doorway, whether Dumbledore's staff suspected his motives and were working to help him in defiance of the Dark Lord and his Death Eater spies. A small scream, and the slap of flesh on flesh from behind the door confirmed that the room was being put to good use for an improper wizarding tradition.

He frowned and threw a _Silencing_ charm at the door, then passed on, under the arch of the cloister and into the main courtyard.

The night was cool, for the time of year, and Snape pulled up the hood of his robe as he stepped out from the shelter of the building into the windswept space. There were gold leaves dancing across the grass and crackling underfoot. The sound of his approach was not sufficient to disturb the couple who were making use of the central fountain for their Samhain celebration.

They were naked, and, unlike the hidden couple in the classroom, had made use of magic before embarking on their nocturnal activity. The soft haze of a _Warming_ charm hovered over the fountain and the bowl, which Pomona had filled with rosy red apples, presumably to encourage the students to indulge in the old game of Apple Bobbing.

The couple were not, however, leaning over the bowl attempting to catch the fruit in their mouths. Rather, Miss Bulstrode was sitting half on the edge of the stone surround, and half with her ample derriere suspended over the water. Mr Montague, buried to the hilt in her furred warmth, was supporting her with one hand on each buttock and lowering her onto the bouncing fruit with each thrust in an attempt to trap one of the apples between her cheeks. It was a question of whether he would succeed before they both ended up in the water.

It was an athletic display of control. Snape mentally applauded Madam Hooch. It seemed that banning Quidditch had been no bar to the students practicing their ball and muscle control by other methods.

There was a splash as he passed under the clock-tower and threw open the double doors to enter the Great Hall.

There was, as he had ordered, a full scale orgy in progress. He had barely set foot across the threshold when a weasel in full pursuit of a white ferret shot across the flagstones almost between his legs and vanished into the shadows between the flaming cressets that lined the walls. Minerva's lessons had certainly proved successful, though the students were sadly lacking in inspiration. Nevertheless, he rather thought that Miss Weasley was likely to prove the dominant partner in her encounter with Mr Malfoy, assuming that she caught him.

He gathered his robes and proceeded down the steps and into the hall. 

Overhead the roof charms duplicated the starlit sky outside, with Charlie's Wain weaving between the rafters and, low to the east, the baleful red eye of Aldebaran looking down on the revels. In ancient times such Samhain ceremonies would have been held under open skies, on hilltops still avoided by Muggles at this time of year for fear of disturbing the sabbat. At least the Hall was warm and sheltered and he was not shivering in Death Eater robes paying court to the Dark Lord on Pendle Hill. 

Not that the scenes being played out here were much different from those that he had witnessed in previous years among Voldemort's followers. The long tables running the length of the Hall were groaning, both literally and figuratively, with food and fornication. In places it was difficult to see where the pink flesh of the roast nogtail ended and the naked entwined students began. Everyone was masked, as traditionally required, though this did not obscure their identities. The Slytherin students in particular exhibited a woeful lack of imagination by adopting the styles popular among their Death Eater parents. Gregory Goyle's pig-like visage was very little changed by the mask, though his squeals, as he was rodgered by the red-hooded Cormac McLaggen were certainly appropriate. Of the staff, Alecto Carrow, watching the pair with an avaricious leer on her scarlet-painted mouth, really seemed to believe that her choice of dark purple, slant-eyed feathered mask and figure-hugging velvet gown imparted an air of rich sophistication to her dumpy figure.

Snape was under no such illusion regarding his own bird-beaked half-mask. He expected to be recognised and accorded the respect due to his position both as Headmaster and Master of Revels. Certainly pupils and teachers moved out of his path as he made his way to the end of the hall where the Head Table had been hung with the traditional rune-woven altar cloths, reputed to have been made by Helga Hufflepuff herself, together with the Cup, Diadem, Locket and Sword (replicas, of course, no one knew where the three of the originals were, and he had no intention of betraying his knowledge of Gryffindor's blade in such a public place).

Tradition, Snape thought, as he skirted one of the flanking braziers to take his seat in the Master's Chair, if the Dark Lord wishes for tradition at Hogwarts, he shall have it.

As he took his seat, the tabby cat which had been sitting bolt upright at one end of the table, guarding the objects and watching the revels with inscrutable green eyes, jumped down and paced off into the shadows. He was unsure whether she approved or abhorred his actions. You could never tell, with cats. A brief movement of his wand sent the flames in the flanking braziers roaring up to the ceiling in two columns of twisted fire. It caught the attention of the room far better than anything else he might have done. Couples disentwined, and those unpartnered and in possession of their senses stood and moved to stand before the High Table.

He surveyed them, students and staff, robed, masked and raddled. His choice was simple. One to represent Summer and youthful innocence, one for Winter and aged experience. He lifted the sword and pointed to Alecto, who shivered, though whether with cold, fear or excitement he did not know. Innocence was, perhaps, the wrong term, but she was the newest member of staff so it was a choice he could defend if ever the Dark Lord questioned it.

She walked forward, lifted the Diadem from its place and pushed it over her greasy hair, and then took up the Cup. Traditionally it contained cider, but Snape had taken the precaution of adding a few simple ingredients of his own, aphrodisiacs, a memory-charm and some calming herbs. The Cup itself would do the rest. As Alecto drank the magic flowed into and over her, changing her robe to pure white. She simpered, but Snape had already turned away and pointed again with the Sword.

Argus Filch stepped from the shadows, leering. The magic, and the Dark Lord, demanded that only Purebloods should take part in this rite, but it said nothing about squibs and blood traitors. Filch took up the locket and placed it around his scrawny neck, then took the Cup from Alecto and drank the last dregs, watching over the rim as Alecto climbed onto the altar.

Filch was the only one who was paying her any attention. Now that the principles for the ritual had been chosen the rest of the company, with various feelings of disappointment and relief, turned back to their own forms of worship. Only Snape continued to watch as the Lord approached the Lady, the dancing flames painting them both with red highlights.

Alecto lay with her legs half over the end of the table, her hands braced against the thick embroidered cloth on the edge to hold herself in place. Filch pushed up her robe, revealing her thick black haired mound. He leaned over, and the locket brushed against her thighs. She moaned in reaction, as if the touch were flesh, not metal, and opened herself wider. The locket sank between her folds, drawn into the moistness of her cunt. Filch smiled and, using his finger, pushed it into her. She cried out, and the flames burned higher in response, and pulsed in time as she began breathing in a hoarse staccato rhythm.

Filch, tethered to the locket and, perforce, to her by its chain, leaned forward to complete the rite. As soon as his tongue touched her she began heaving, pushing her mound against his face as her orgasm built. Tongue on her clit and the warmth of the locket inside her released her juices in copious amounts, flowing out, dripping down his chin onto the altarcloth. The runes there began to glow. It was obvious to the watcher that her first orgasm would come quickly now. Filch was also close, rampant under his loose ceremonial robe. He put his middle finger into her vagina, alongside the drenched links of the chain, and his thumb into her anus, working her while his tongue continued to tease her clit. The Rite of Proserpine, of life submitting to death, and the little death; the opening and closing of the Gate of the Year.

She came five times, while Filch spent his own seed over the floor and altar without once touching himself, before the magic was done with them and he fell away, dragging the locket from her relaxing cunt to clatter on the bare flagstones.

On either side the flames died in the braziers, leaving the dull red glow of the coals and the altar in shadow.

The Samhain Ritual was over.

oo00oo

**Author's Note:**

> The armadillo is a reference to the one which appears in the 1931 film of Dracula. No, they are not native to Transylvania. No one has any idea what it's doing there.
> 
> Kipling's 'Just So Stories' explain the origin of the armadillo as a result of a tortoise learning to curl up for protection, and a porcupine developing armour (it sounds better the way he tells it).


End file.
